


After Synthesis

by AmyNChan



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, I JUST watched the Synthesis Ending full, I WANT EVERYONE TO LIVE DANGIT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28033368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/pseuds/AmyNChan
Summary: Shepard chose Synthesis.
Relationships: EDI/Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	After Synthesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ss3dj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ss3dj/gifts).



> Because _someone_ sent me a video of all the endings, and I got Inspired!

_“Forgive the insubordination, but your boyfriend has an order for you.” Secure talons. Close heartbeat. Subvocals she could feel and almost hear. Warmth. Fear. Protection. Love. “Come back alive. It’d be an awfully empty galaxy without you.”_

_Their last kiss. She’d meant it, and he’d meant it. They’d thought they were desperate then._

_“No matter what happens here,” a strong voice, warbling. Breaking. Strength strained, but going on. “You know I love you. I always will.”_

_He’d known then. Of course he had. She could see in his electric blue eyes that he understood. These were their final moments. And she took the words he gave her, the gift he gave her instead of another plead to escape with them, and turned…_

_…and ran to what had to be done._

* * *

* * *

_“Your organic energy, the essence of who and what you are, will be broken down and then dispersed.”_

Said like that… she’d assumed death. Or some form of assimilation with every sentient being in the galaxy. Either way, she’d assumed that her consciousness, her choices, and her life would essentially be over the moment she’d run into the beam.

And, for a moment, it had been. She’d returned to that place that all creatures traversed to after death. Her mother, the romantic soul that she always was under her Navy blues, had always called it Elysium. Hannah had called it that before the Skyllian Blitz, and she called it that after, too. No human colony could ever bear that name again, so it made sense that the souls who had died there could only return to a home that would never come to harm again. Jane, in time, adopted the name, just as her romantic mother. It was poetic justice.

In Elysium, she’d seen old faces. They’d smiled at her, offered seashells, wished peace upon her, called her Shepard-commander, and saluted her one more time. There had been a peace and unity—tinged with a sadness that she would have to accustom herself to—that had enveloped her very soul. She’d been ready to seek out the bar.

Then, Elysium had flickered. The faces of her friends did not seem surprised, or worried. They seemed happy still.

“You know what you have to do.” Anderson’s voice was gentler than it had ever been in life. Perhaps because no more lives were depending on his every decision.

Jane smiled. Perhaps he could truly rest now.

“Yeah,” she said, allowing Elysium to flicker away. “Yeah, I do.”

As the faces of her friends… of her _family_ faded away, a new face appeared. She looked down, a frown on her face. It didn’t seem to notice her displeasure.

“The synthesis was successful.” It stood before her, still wearing the form of that young boy. She wondered if it might one day learn shame. “You were ready, and now evolution is complete.”

“Thought it might be,” said Shepard, shifting from one foot to the next. It was nice to not have bleeding injuries anymore, but she wasn’t dead. She _could_ have died. She _had_ for a moment. It was possible. She _could_ have been left for dead.

“So, why am I alive?”

A beat passed between them, Shepard looking at it before it answered her in a cool collection of voices.

“The synthesizing process was meant to use your very essence to advance all sentient life into its final stage,” it explained. “It did, and your essence is powerful. Soldiers near death have been brought to full health, sicknesses have been healed, synthetics with damaged emotional processors have been brought to understanding. You saved the galaxy.”

Shepard frowned. That was everything she’d hoped for. That was what she’d been counting on. The fighting was over, and every sentient being in the galaxy could move forward. It had told her this would happen before she made her choice.

So why did it sound so surprised?

“A less powerful organic would have only saved those who could be saved at the level of their development,” it continued. “Instead, your essence has eradicated illnesses that your most genius doctors have not comprehended, and created a unity that would have still taken time to achieve. It has also saved you.”

A great light surrounded her, and Shepard had to blink. But her eyes adjusted much more quickly than normal. The blinking was not reflexive. It was habit. She could see perfectly fine.

She stood in the middle of the Crucible. Unscathed.

“What…?”

Shepard looked at her side. The bleeding was gone. Her arm, fixed. The burns she’d sustained getting to the Citadel, healed.

“How is this possible?” she asked, staring at her hands. They were perfect. Every finger was healed, as though the damage they’d been forced to endure had never happened at all. She curled them in and out and in again. The nerve damage she’d had to have sustained… it should have taken months to get even a slight amount of mobility back. But this…

“Your essence.” Its voices regained her attention, and she turned to it. Calmly, it continued. “It holds the power to defy destiny and change fate. When the galaxy had been saved, what remained returned here, infusing itself with your body and calling you back from death.”

Shepard’s ears perked at that, and she narrowed her eyes. “What remained… So am I only a part of Jane Shepard?”

“Yes, but not as you might think.” Shepard looked at it evenly, her stern glare settled. It seemed unphased by her, and continued. “What saved the galaxy was the raw power of your essence. What has returned to you is everything that has ever or will ever make you human. The Crucible then performed the same procedure on you that it performed on every other sentient creature.”

She didn’t understand. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” said the voices, “that you are now no more or less than any other living creature in this galaxy. You will now share this galaxy on equal footing with every other being in existence, and the excess of power that you once had is now within every living creature, sustaining them and keeping them alive.”

Shepard still didn’t quite understand, but she felt she had a good enough grasp to know that she was herself. Whatever the synthesis had taken from her, it could keep. She would make do with what she had. She nodded.

“Right.” She turned away, looking to the surface of Earth. The first thing she noticed were the lack of fires. She hoped every other home world could say the same. Tuchanka, Thessia, Palaven…

Her heart ached. She needed to see her crew.

“I take it my squishy organic body won’t like it if I try to float down to Earth?” asked Shepard, already moving. It had to be around here somewhere.

“Yes,” it said. “You would regenerate thanks to synthesis, but the process would be quick and painful.”

“Noted.” She cast aside the scrap pieces of metal. The difference between useful materials and utter junk came more quickly to her now. Five pieces, scattered around the Crucible. Perfect. She just needed to put them together.

“You’re making a communication device.” It hadn’t moved. It was just watching her.

Well, as long as it wasn’t trying to end all organic life anymore, it could do whatever the hell it wanted. It wasn’t a threat anymore.

“Yeah,” she said, putting the pieces together. Her comm may have been smashed to hell and back, but she could jerry rig _something_ …

“Your fleets evacuated when you began synthesis.” Good to know. “And Earth’s systems are too weak right now to read anything from space. There won’t be anyone to receive your message.”

“I don’t need Earth to receive my message,” said Shepard. The pieces fit together smoothly. She could get used to accessing a vast knowledge database in less than a nanosecond. “I just need the Normandy to.”

“The Normandy evacuated.”

“I know. And I know that the Normandy will come back. Even if it takes them a while, they’ll come back.”

“I don’t understand.”

Shepard stopped, her device nearly complete. She turned to the being, who had remained in place. The confidence in its voices had remained, but the posture was… different. Uncertain and curious.

Maybe the reason it had kept the form of a child was the fact that it felt like one. It had had no reason to understand the organics before, but the green shimmering within its figure told her that it was now _part_ organic. It was now something it had tried to contain and control, and if the synthesis had brought emotions into the being’s world, then it was probably undergoing a lot of confusion and transformation.

And it was still trying to understand.

She sighed. She would be waiting at the very least few days, so she might as well get comfortable. She patted the space beside her.

“You will. But change your form into something else. If you want to understand organics, first thing you want to learn is that we respect the dead.”

* * *

* * *

Shepard and the being remained in the Crucible for three weeks. Blinking had turned out to be habit. As had breathing, drinking, sleeping, and eating. The new synthetic aspect of Shepard kept her in mint condition as she waited, and the companion had kept her somewhat grounded as she explained concept after concept.

Not that the being hadn’t done its own share of explaining as well.

“Why green?” asked Shepard as soon as she’d seen her reflection in the window. She’d always had green eyes, but this… “Seems kind of superficial.”

“It is a unifying marker. The color was irrelevant.”

“Was?”

The being paused for a moment, turning its teenage appearing head as it appeared to puzzle something out. “The color… has become appropriate.”

“Why?”

Shepard watched with patience as the being searched for answers. It did not meet her eyes as it thought. “It is the color most closely tied to life within the galaxy. It seems the most fit and appealing of all the colors.”

“So you like green.”

“Like…”

The being was silent for a while after that, contemplating the notion. Shepard picked up her communication device and pressed the button.

“Attention, SSV Normandy-SR2, this is Commander Shepard, requesting pickup. I repeat, SSV Normandy, SR-2, this is Commander Shepard, requesting pickup.”

The device crackled as it had for the past three weeks. A series of white noise static that did not carry any response. Shepard sighed, placing the device down.

“You are still convinced they are coming.”

Shepard looked at the being. “Yes.”

She expected the being to question her, to try and puzzle out yet again why she was so convinced. Instead, it fell silent, and the environment around them settled into itself once more.

The Citadel was destroyed. The Crucible had done it, and Shepard was convinced that repair efforts would make their way to it eventually. But, for now, the entire area was just as painfully wrecked as it had been the day she arrived. Debris floated outside, and Shepard refused to go out into the zone of dead and desecrated bodies. She’d given Anderson the respect he deserved, and the Illusive Man had only garnered her sympathy as his body rotted below. The countless innocent souls had also been mourned by Shepard as she waited. She dedicated the silence of her stay to their passing.

It would never be enough.

“It is clear to me that I do not truly understand organics.” The voices brought Shepard out of her mind, and it took her a moment to process what had been said. She leaned against her hands.

“You don’t say,” she replied, her posture relaxed and her mind sharp.

“I do.” The being looked about the environment. The clean and sterile room of the Crucible, enveloped by the corpse of the Citadel. “It is also clear to me that I must make an effort to understand it. One creature is not enough for me to learn from.”

She knew that it meant no offense. She didn’t take any. Personally, she agreed. There was only so much anyone can learn from one person, after all.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I plan to leave the Crucible.”

Shepard hummed. “Didn’t you say that you were the Crucible? How do you plan to leave without a solid form?”

“I am creating one. It will be ready momentarily, and I will leave to learn.”

Shepard nodded. This was probably the next step in learning for it. It was half-organic now, so it truly did need to learn about the half it had never made an attempt to truly understand before. Travel, she thought, was a good choice to do so.

“Once I leave, I will be taking my consciousness with me,” said the being. Shepard nodded. It made sense. To learn, you had to bring your wits with you. Literally, in its case. “I will not be able to help you leave.”

“You said that any ship you made out of these parts would have a thirty-two percent fail rate for any primarily organic body.” Shepard remembered that conversation very clear. She wanted to go help the rebuilding efforts, but crash-landing into Earth and restitching herself together hardly seemed as though it would do anything except bring mass panic and confusion. “I’ll wait for the Normandy.”

“I see.”

The silence ticked between them. A large wire floated past the window. It looked as though it could have been anything. Shepard wasn’t interested in identifying it. They would have to clean all of this debris at some point.

“I will not see you for a long time.”

Shepard thought about it. “The galaxy’s a big place,” she settled on saying at last. “Lots to learn; lots to do. It could be years before we see each other again.”

“Centuries,” corrected the being. Shepard nodded. Right. Centuries. Her lifespan could rival an asari’s now. That was still hard to wrap her mind around. “So… it is customary to say goodbye, correct?”

Shepard blinked. It wasn’t needed, but surprise, it seemed, was an emotion that old habits still associated with blinking. She watched as the being extended a hand. It trembled.

Was it… nervous?

Shepard shook off her reservations and grasped the being’s hand. Firm fingers wrapped around a void resistance of space, and they shook. The form it took now was one of a teenager, and she knew a scared teenager when she saw one. She sat up straight and looked it in the eyes.

“Start getting any ideas of curbing the existence of life again and I’ll find you to kick your ass myself,” warned Shepard.

The being, for the first time in their containment, blinked. “Noted.”

The two let go, and the being shimmered for a moment before disappearing from Shepard’s sight. Eight minutes later, she felt a deep rumble throughout the station. She watched as a purposeful heap of scrap made its way away from Earth and into the blank expanse of space. It moved slowly, and four days passed before she could no longer see it.

* * *

* * *

Shepard only used her voice once every four days now. The message was the same.

“Attention, SSV Normandy-SR2, this is Commander Shepard, requesting pickup. I repeat, SSV Normandy, SR-2, this is Commander Shepard, requesting pickup.”

And, for two weeks, she received only static.

During that time, she watched. She watched Earth rebuild from the Crucible. She watched as swaths of burnt land—visible even from space—began to meld with their surroundings. Black became brown and green and, in one particularly curious note, blue.

During that time, she reflected. She reflected on the war and all of the effort that had gone into making their final shot. She reflected on the words she’d chosen to rally the species, and she reflected on the actions she wished she’d chosen sooner. She reflected on every life lost, and she reflected on how many families must still be in mourning. She reflected on her choices, and she found that she could have done a great many things better and a great many things worse.

She apologized to departed souls for not being fast enough, but time had eased her into gratitude for the many lives that had been saved. Lives _had_ been saved, and that was something to remain grateful for. It wouldn’t bring back the dead, but life was a precious gift that could be used to honor them. And life… life could go forward. Life could still be protected. Life could be improved.

Life… life was worth fighting for. Even against no unified enemy, it was worth fighting for.

She was ready to rebuild. She was ready to help.

She was ready for pickup.

“Attention, SSV Normandy-SR2, this is Commander Shepard, requesting pickup,” said Shepard. Her voice never got hoarse. It sounded in mint condition despite how infrequently she used it. “I repeat, SSV Normandy, SR-2, this is—”

“If you say ‘Commander Shepard,’ I am going to personally fly this ship directly into your ass.”

The device sparked into a fiery life, and Jane almost dropped it. Her eyebrows flew up. She’d said the same thing for six weeks now, but now… now…

“…Joker?” she asked. “Is that you?”

“Who is this? How do you—you know what? That doesn’t matter.” Venom laced the pilot’s tongue. “You’re damned lucky I didn’t have your little message on broadcast for the whole crew. Now, who are you and why are you calling yourself Commander Shepard?”

“Joker!” cried Shepard. For the first time in six weeks, she felt a need for air. It felt as though she’d had the wind knocked out of her with his voice. “It’s me!”

“Yeah, right, like I’ll believe—”

“Just a moment, Jeff.” Shepard was glad she was still sitting down. The strength in her legs just left her. “I believe this is, in fact, Shepard.”

“Not so loud!” hissed Joker. She could hear the anger and frustration and sorrow that laced his tone. An ache that she had become accustomed to throbbed within her at their voices. No matter how angry, no matter how frustrated… “If this isn’t her…”

“It’s coming from the Crucible,” interjected EDI. Her voice was primarily synthetic, but… but it was more. EDI was… _more_ than she’d been when Shepard had sent her and…

She needed to see them. She needed to see them _right now_.

“Joker, I didn’t know you were sick when you told me that you had Vrolik. You told me you earned your spot, and I believed you.” Shepard clutched to the device with white-knuckled hands. “Believe me now. I _am_ Commander Jane Shepard, and I want to go home.”

She knew that the silence that descended wasn’t them disconnecting. A disconnect would change the sound of the device.

But it felt like it.

It _felt_ like it.

She held her tongue, though, because that was what Commander Jane Shepard did. She held her tongue and watched deliberations happen before her. She watched with eagle eyes the direction of conversation and intervened when necessary. Commander Jane Shepard commanded a room with her presence.

Jane Shepard, however, just wanted to go home. Home to her crew, to her _family_.

“Shepard,” said EDI, her voice synthetic and soothing. When did EDI learn to soothe? “We’re coming to get you.”

“Rodger. I’m by the window.”

“Which one? The entire damn _thing_ is a window.” Joker’s voice was still raw and on edge, but it was _there_. And soon he, and everyone else on the Normandy, would be _there_.

But… she couldn’t see them.

She couldn’t see the Normandy.

Her pulse spiked. No. She wasn’t hallucinating. She heard Joker and EDI. They responded to her call. They were there. They had to be, right?

She couldn’t be hallucinating. She _couldn’t_ be.

“I’m facing Earth.” Calm. She had to keep her voice calm. _She_ had to keep calm.

The device crackled.

“Turn left, then.”

Shepard did.

The SSV Normandy was directly in line of sight. Somehow silent, it glided forward, like a savior in the middle of inky darkness. Familiar lettering blazed against her retinas, and the sleek design was so achingly familiar.

She wiped her eyes.

“EDI’s coming out. I swear, if you’re not— if this isn’t— if this is one big joke, I will kick your ass.”

“If she isn’t who she says she is, then I will kick her ass.”

Shepard was sure they’d left the comms live on purpose for that remark. Still, she couldn’t find it within herself to be upset. There were too many emotions already. Relief. Desperation. Longing. Sorrow. Excitement. Too many happening too rapidly for her to make sense of any of them and talk to the people she considered…

The hatch on the side of the Normandy opened, and the sleek form of EDI exited into the darkness of space. Shepard watched as her crewmate… her friend made her way closer, and she stood. It took approximately one minute, but those sixty seconds were punctuated by a breathlessness that wasn’t biologically related to her tension anymore, but related by habit.

When EDI reached the glass, she withdrew her hand and punched through it, shattering the entire window with her force. The vacuuming effect was immediate, and Shepard let her breath go so as not to rupture her lungs. They could fix themselves now, but the idea of pain was still not pleasant.

Even if they _were_ a redundant organ now, she liked the motion of breathing, and lungs were required for that.

Even if it didn’t seem even remotely important when she was staring into the face of one of her friends for the first time in weeks.

“Shepard,” said EDI, “I have a question.”

Of all the things she’d expected to hear, that had somehow been the last. She let out a shocked chuckle, and she ran a hand through her hair.

“You never seem to run out of those, do you?” asked Shepard. EDI did not respond verbally, but Shepard knew what she wanted. “Go ahead.”

EDI’s eyes pierced her, and Shepard realized with a startled jolt that they were green. A vibrant green that radiated an energy that Shepard had never noticed from her AI friend before.

“When the Crucible was activated, a beam of green light emitted from it, and every ship was called to evacuate,” stated EDI. Shepard nodded. This she knew. “When the beam reached us, we were ejected from hyperspeed, and we landed harshly on an alien planet, the likes of which we did not know. Concerned, I found Jeff. He was hunched over, and his face did not show signs of pain. Instead, there was shock. He stood, hunched, and walked with me to the door. He opened it, and we emerged together to observe our surroundings. The sunset we found was beautiful, but it was ultimately bittersweet.

Shepard, do you know why it was bittersweet?”

Shepard didn’t know. She hadn’t been there. She could guess, though.

“The Crucible worked,” she began, gesturing to the now airless space around them. “But the price we paid to make sure it did… the fact that you didn’t _know_ what it did… the price was too steep for a maybe victory.”

She gave her answer with confidence, as she gave all other answers. She couldn’t imagine the agony of not knowing what had happened. She almost expected a sage nod to come from her friend.

“Wrong.”

Shepard blinked. She was wrong. The commander looked at EDI, waiting for her to elaborate. She did.

“As soon as the beam hit me, I was flooded with another sense. A sense of purpose that I had begun to strive for on my own, and a much wider understanding of the emotions I had already been working on broadening. In that moment, I was filled with a sense of belonging with my crewmembers, the likes I had never felt before. I knew, then, that I had become organic, in a sense.

“Jeff still walks with a hunch. It is how he has walked his entire life, whenever he was permitted to do so. He no longer feels pain, but he will choose to remain in his chair because that is what he finds preferable. It is habit. His bones are strong, and Vrolik’s is no longer a cause for concern. His body is stronger now, and healthier. When he informed me of this, I knew that there had been a change within him as there had been a change within me. He had become somewhat synthetic.

“The differing members of the crew also immediately noticed differences within their bodies and physiques. We knew what we had become, and we also knew what the Reapers must have also become.

“And we knew, in a sense, what had become of you. At least, we thought we did.”

Shepard blinked, comprehension beginning to dawn.

“The sunset was bittersweet that day. We knew what type of future had been secured for us all. It is a selfless future that you chose, and we were grateful for the opportunity for peace. But to know that it came at the cost of you… to _feel_ as though it came at the cost of you…”

One tear, made of a material that Shepard couldn’t begin to detail, slid down EDI’s cheek.

“Much of the crew had already grieved you once. I was not alive then to endure it. I was this time.”

It was then that the full weight of the war’s end crashed upon her.

She had thought that she would die the moment she’d run into the beam.

It made sense that her crew had thought so as well.

That she’d died.

And now, six weeks later, to find their supposedly dead friend stranded on a broken hunk of space patiently asking for a pickup… As if nothing had happened…

Shepard reached forward and crushed EDI into her arms, embracing her with all of her strength. EDI’s response was swift, locking Shepard close to her with as much effort as she could bear.

“I’m sorry I put you all through that,” whispered Shepard. “But I had to. For our survival, I had to make a choice.”

EDI’s posture changed, and Shepard felt, truly felt, as though she were being embraced back. Like a friend that was finally being welcomed home.

Like she was finally being welcomed back home.

“You were going to kill me if I was an imposter, weren’t you?”

“I have more humanity than that,” said EDI. “I would have kicked your ass, forced you to remove your disguise, and then turned you over to the authority. We do have a SPECTRE on the ship, after all.”

Shepard laughed. Well and truly laughed. EDI’s humor was terrible, but it was humor. And it was hers.

And she was _alive_.

She was _alive_.

They hugged a moment longer before they both withdrew. They wiped their tears, though Shepard was sure she had some remnants on her face. Still, she looked towards the Normandy.

“I ran psychological analyses and a biometric scan on you during our conversation,” said EDI conversationally. Shepard chuckled.

“Of course you did,” she said. “Smart move.”

“Thank you,” said EDI. “I’ve let Jeff know that you’re genuinely Shepard, and he is not the only one awaiting your return.”

Shepard nodded, quickly moving in step with EDI to leave the Crucible behind. Six weeks of separation were finally catching up to her, and she forced herself to remain somewhat calm externally.

EDI reached the hatch first, and Shepard noticed that the code had changed. She would have to learn it soon. The door opened, and the two scurried inside. Once the ship had run through its procedures, the door to the interior opened.

“SHEPARD!”

Immediately, Shepard’s hands were full of quarian, as Tali had rushed into the decontamination chamber to embrace her. Her voice was a mixture of relieved, worried, and angry. “ _Keelah_ , you’re alive!”

“Tali!” gasped Shepard, immediately latching onto the woman she considered a sister. Her space suit was rougher than she remembered, and looser. Had she been eating well?

“Goddess, Shepard, you had us all worried,” a soft voice said as its owner also swept the two ladies into a hug. Shepard maneuvered her arms to accommodate for Liara, overwhelmed and oh so happy to know that she was alive, too. “ _Must_ you nearly die every time you save the galaxy?”

“Job description,” the woman muttered, too concerned with the fact that her friends were _there_ to make a full joke. “You know how it is.”

“Where’s that in the N7 contract, Lola?” James’s voice was booming, but she could tell it was thick. “I sure as hell didn’t see it.”

Tali and Liara eased off to let her get a good look at him. At them.

Ashley stood with him, and they both wasted no time wrapping Shepard in hugs next.

“ _Jesus_ , Skipper, it’s like you’re trying to break us with how many times you can come back from the dead,” said Ashley. “And, for the record, the SPECTRE job description doesn’t have that in _its_ description, either.”

Shepard tried to talk when she was flanked from both sides and the back. A quick look around told her that Gabby, Ken, and Addams had joined the growing pile of bodies.

“We thought you were a goner!”

“You’re back from the dead!”

“Good to have you back, Commander!”

Shepard tried to reach everyone as much as she could, and they looked like a human cluster of limbs and tears before long. Still, Shepard’s heart was fit to burst. These were her family. They were here. She wanted to cry of joy. Soon, though, they were soon ushered away by one pilot and medical officer.

“Commander Shepard,” said Joker, standing up to his full height. He didn’t wince on his way up, but it was unfamiliar movement to him nonetheless, and Shepard stood a little straighter herself. Her pilot stared at her with piercing green eyes, an uncharacteristically deep-set frown on his face. “Don’t _ever_ do that again.”

Shepard couldn’t promise that, but before she could explain such a thing, Chakwas interrupted.

“She won’t be doing much of _anything_ for a while,” said the medical officer, immediately fussing about Shepard. The woman wasn’t sure if this was more habit or if there was something medicinally wrong with her, so she let Chakwas continue. “Physically, the damage is repaired for her as for the rest of us, but we can’t be too careful. How much have you slept?”

“I… haven’t,” said Shepard, only to be met with disapproving tisks. Immediately, she was ushered to the elevator.

“Bed. Now. We may be essentially perfect beings in body, but our minds still require rest and care. That’s an order from your doctor.”

A chorus of disapprovals came from everyone. Those who had seen Shepard. Shepard herself. She had more people she wanted to see. Especially one more…

“Enough!” said Chakwas, and her glare was enough to cause everyone to follow her order. “Now. I want very much to catch up with Shepard. And I will be doing a _thorough_ psychological report in the future to ensure this does _not_ happen again,” she said while shooting Shepard a glare that the victim attempted to deflect, “but she has gone through a lot of trauma with no support and has not offered her mind the chance to process as we all have. First rest, then community.”

There were still grumbles of dissent, but Chakwas remained firm. She also personally guided Shepard from the front of the ship, to the elevator, to her floor, to the door of her bedroom.

“In,” said Chakwas.

“Not going to tuck me in?” asked Shepard, mind already working on how she would be escaping later to find the one person she desperately wanted to see. He was probably in the battery. Hopefully.

“No, no,” said the doctor. “I’ve assigned someone to watch over you. I’m sure they’ll do a phenomenal job.”

“Someone…?”

“In, Commander.”

Shepard made to argue, but then Chakwas made the face. There was no arguing with the face. She went in. And closed the door behind her.

The first thing she heard in her old room was the bubbling of the fish tank. The fish were probably dead. She’d have to scoop them out and bury them properly. Or were the fish synthetic, too? She turned to check.

And promptly forgot about the fish.

He stood there, the one person she’d been wanting to see the most. He was in his civvie clothes, bathed in the glow of the tank. His mandibles flared, but he said nothing. His eyes were wide, as if he knew what he was seeing and couldn’t believe it.

She could relate.

“ _Garrus_.”

It was a whisper. Soft and reverent. Somehow, that single word made him jolt into action. His fast legs crossed the distance of her room in two heartbeats.

_Bum-bum._

_Bum-bum_.

One of his hands went to her arm. Another went to her face, cupping it gently and moving it around. She let him lead for a moment, knowing what he was looking for, before placing her hands over his. There wasn’t any damage left to find.

She turned to take him in fully, and his hand followed her movement. Her eyes met with his. He stilled, waiting for her to speak. His eyes… weren’t the color she was used to.

“I’m gonna miss those blue eyes of yours, Garrus,” she said. She wasn’t sure what else _to_ say.

“ _Spirits_ , Shepard,” whispered her boyfriend, his head moving forward to rest on hers. The touch startled her and soothed her. Electrified her and grounded her.

“I know,” she whispered back. Her voice cracked. Here, in the only place where it could, it did. Six weeks. They’d all thought she was dead for _six weeks_. She’d never meant to do that to them, and it wrecked her that she had. Again. “I know.”

Garrus held her for a moment, and they stood together. She’d missed him. Missed his presence and his stabilizing comfort. Missed his reminders to take a breath in the harshest storms. Missed his pep talks and even missed his need to calibrate everything.

She leaned in closer to his space, pressing her lips against his. The two of them pressed closer together, desperation and the knowledge of what lay unsaid between them. The hurt, the agony, and the balm of their mere presence with one another.

If there were tears between them, that was their business. If there were talks between them, that was their business. If there were private moments and intense reunions between them, that was their business.

And they had the rest of their hybridized lives to go about their business however they so chose.

And this time… _this time_ , Shepard would make _sure_ that she wouldn’t leave her family behind like that. Not ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the Synthesis Ending in full and I WANT EVERYONE TO LIVE SO THEY'RE GONNA LIVE DANGIT!
> 
> There are a couple of grammar things that I forewent in here (mainly with the commas) because I'm reading Coraline, and while the comma usage is technically incorrect, it does have a certain effect that I really liked and wanted to duplicate here in this fanfic. XD But I hope you enjoyed it otherwise! *^_^*
> 
> (also to anyone who is waiting for the next chapter of TFF, I _swear_ I'm working on it; it's just really hard. u_u)


End file.
